She saw the error in that now, the mistake she had made. Because to conceal it meant hiding the person she was. Stifling it had led to her being careless. In turn, that had led to danger.

She stopped laughing and groaned instead, a long, guttural moan, like an animal. She was still in the ice hole, couldn’t feel anything below her waist any more. She levered herself out with her arms, dragging her useless legs behind her, shuffling along like a commando until finally, after what seemed like hours, the texture beneath her forearms turned from ice to the cold, hard gravel of the land.

Drowning had almost been the end of her, but now hypothermia was the very real risk. As if to cement this fact, her teeth began to chatter, her jaw working painfully no matter how hard she tried to clench it.

Warmth.

Her brain sent her a single instruction, and obediently she pushed herself into a crouch and tried to jog. Her movements were jerky and awkward, and time and time again she fell face forward into the snow. But by the time she reached the edge of the forest, she realised that her legs, only minutes ago numb and seemingly paralysed, were working again. She balled her hands into fists and punched at her thighs as she staggered through the trees.

On she went, not noticing the branches that reached out to grab her, paying little heed to the ground beneath her feet that dipped and rose. She moved unseeingly, and the landscape around her blended into nothingness.

A rucksack.

It dimly registered, the deep green material of the bag standing out against the crisp white snow.

Anna’s bag.

She slowed and stooped to pick it up. The zip was open, and the bag was empty apart from a few euro notes in the bottom. With fingers that were increasingly stiff and painful, she grasped the money and shoved it in her pocket. Still holding the rucksack, she walked a few feet, scanning left and right now.

The waxed jacket.

It was caught on a low-hanging branch of a pine. She dropped the rucksack and ripped off her own sodden coat, putting the jacket on in its place. Even though her top and jeans were soaking wet, the single piece of dry material seemed to help.

She shook her head, droplets of water spraying around her, then tore her scarf off and draped it over the branch that she’d found the coat on. Above her, the Northern Lights seemed to be fading, and the forest around her settled into gloom. But before they disappeared completely, she saw the glint of metal a few feet off the path she had been following.

Keys.

The master keys to the Ruby Spirit, the ones Anna had stolen from someone called Mark. And… She pushed the leaves aside and picked up the next object. Her breathing sounded suddenly very loud in her ears.